Irritation deepened Basil’s frown at the response he received to the point where he was sure he would remain permanently wrinkled, though it wasn’t like he hadn’t known better. The little bit of shame that Macnair’s words inspired (because he was right, it was a bit brutish to berate an invalid) was quickly overrun with Basil’s own lack of ability to express his concern in any way that constituted veracity. He was quite concerned, thank you, over Macnair’s present position but to show as much would give him away and so Basil settled on sulking in silence. He would give Macnair an earful, sure as the night was long, once he was recovered. And perhaps make an effort to check in more frequently, unwanted or not.

After a short pause of lapsed silence, Basil continuing to press the damp cloth against Macnair’s brow and resisting the urge to shake him silly, the Ravenclaw sighed. His anger was fading and grey hues studied the pallid visage that faced up at him. Settling the wet cloth back in the bowl, he brushed Macnair’s fringe away from his brow. It was at that moment that a frantic knocking on the shop door made him jump. Skin prickling, Basil turned towards the opening in the room immediately and called to their visitor, before he stood to quickly let her in.

Sybella Capobianco was the most welcome sight of a woman he could honestly admit to in many long years. She was made ever the more beautiful by her ability to rescue them both, but Basil hardly noticed. He was too fixated on Macnair’s prospects as he let out a sigh of relief and tripped over himself trying to explain the situation. (In fact, it was a bit of an embarrassment how flustered he became given how cool and collected he normally remained in dangerous situations.)

Practically dragging her back to Agrimony’s side, he pried the blood soaked cloth from the other’s fingers and held it out to her with his own injured hand. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” the Ravenclaw finally said, ceasing his prattling. “Can you help him, Sybella? I’m sure it must be something to do with one of these wretched experiments,” Basil gestured vaguely about and then turned to her, imploring. He knew she would do her best, it was her calling as a healer after all. But he couldn’t help the sinking feeling of dread looming over them all. He’d feel quite a bit better once she proclaimed him likely to survive.

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